


I walk these streets famished

by writelikeitsgoingoutofstyle (twoandahalfslytherins)



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 05:00:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5614807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twoandahalfslytherins/pseuds/writelikeitsgoingoutofstyle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever since winter set, Hamilton's not sure he's felt warmth or been full.</p><p>Thankfully, Burr's home solves both of these things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I walk these streets famished

The staccato knocking that was echoing throughout his home almost definitely belonged to Hamilton, no one else ever knocked with that sort of urgency.

Perhaps that was why Aaron was taking his sweet time to get to the door, taking the time to get at least mostly dressed rather than simply opening the door in his house coat. The last thing he needed was Alexander Hamilton to have knowledge of his sleepwear, who knew what perverse use the man would find for it. Besides, it was about time that someone taught Alexander to wait for something.

When he finally opened the door, he almost felt guilty for his stalling. Alexander stood there, hand hanging mid-knock, body visibly vibrating in his too-thin coat. If he remembers correctly, and it's hard not to considering how often Hamilton's tragic life story is interjected into whatever conversation Burr is trying to have, this is Alexander's first winter in New York. Did the Caribbean even have a cold season, Burr wondered. Virginia had, though nothing compared to the punishing weather that was currently happening outside. 

"Burr, I know you're a man of honor," and Burr does them both a favor by stepping to the side to allow Hamilton in, rather than snark that Hamilton only considers him so when he needs something.

Burr rolled his shoulders backwards, suddenly wishing that he'd taken the time to dress in more than his shirt sleeves, the chill having cut through the fabric he is wearing, and when Alexander speaks, he is again reminded of just how cold the other man must be, "I had nowhere else to turn, Burr, Sir."

Aaron looks down on him, shaking his head slightly and motioning for Alexander to follow him as he goes to stoke the fire in the living area. At least the flame will help abate the chill some, and give him something to think about other than the slight young man currently fidgeting in his parlor. It's strange to see Alexander look so helpless, so out of sorts, and Burr can only imagine that he is not the man's first choice. The teenager, because really, Alexander hadn't even turned twenty yet, had probably spent more than an hour going down the street hoping for someone to take him in.

It made Aaron wonder where the rest of the revolutionary trio was, or what might have transpired that Alex no longer felt comfortable in their... tender... care.

Once the fire was healthy, Burr turned to face him again, amused at the way that Alexander looked anywhere but him, fingers digging into his own coat with such force that Aaron suspected that there would be bruises by night. He considers asking Alexander to remove his coat, after all, it was unlikely doing much to fight whatever chill was left, but decided to leave the other man his armor for now.

Whether it was an act of pity or simply Aaron responding to his own call of nature, Burr isn't sure, but something inspired him to ask, "I suppose you haven't had a chance to enjoy a morning meal yet?"

If he were being honest he'd comment that Alex probably hasn't been home since he left whatever drinking establishment he left hours before. The thought is one that makes him vaguely appreciative that Hamilton waited as long as he did before bothering Burr, there was no way he could have handled the other man appearing to him in the middle of the night. At least, at this hour, they had plausible deniability that the man had come for tea and perhaps to confer with Burr regarding his latest fit of passion.

"I wouldn't want to be a burden, Sir." Despite his words, Alexander is following him to the kitchen, hunger all too clear on his face.

Alexander always looked hungry, not that Burr was overly large himself, but it was hard to miss the fact that for all their similarities, Aaron had received luck of the draw. After all, he was here in a home and while Alexander would never lower himself so much as to call himself homeless, he seemed to always be relying on the kindness of others. Burr frowned as he began making the porridge, careful to keep his back towards Alexander who had finally settled himself at the small table to the side. It wouldn't do, after all, for Hamilton to misconstrue his thoughts as his being anything less than a perfect host.

Burr rolled his shoulders again, taking a deep breath in order to collect himself as he turned around. The porridge could be left alone for now, and he busied himself instead with retrieving beer, milk, and butter from the cold storage.

Alexander nodded his thanks when Aaron put everything down on the table, and Burr couldn't help but regard him strangely, "You are allowed to talk. There is not a vow of silence in my household."

There was a pleasant red hue on the man's cheeks when he spoke, "Perhaps not, but I wouldn't want to overextend your company and it was you after all, who mentioned that I should talk less."

Burr had wondered on more than one occasion what it would take to make Alexander be quiet, but the idea the usually passionate man was willing to trade his words away for common decency had Burr wondering how long it had been since Alexander's last meal, "Do you think me so low that I would throw a man out into the weather for a simple set of words?"

When Alexander said nothing as Burr placed the porridge on the table along with bowls and spoons, Burr sighed, "It would please me greatly if you spoke freely."

There's a glint in Alexander's eye that makes Burr wonder how long he'll have to pay for that particular offer, but Alex seems more intent on shoveling as much porridge in his mouth as possible rather than talking. Aaron wonders if Hamilton suspects that he might whisk away the breakfast at any misstep of the tongue, or if being famished has always robbed him of his table manners. Either way, Burr makes no remark of it, his careful eating of his own meal the only comment he's willing to make.

Hamilton eats more than half of the porridge before he realizes the dwindling amount and puts down his spoon, folding his hands in his laps and Aaron sighs again, "There is more to be had should you not have had your fill."

Alexander gaze flickered between the food, and Burr, "I don't know that that's an offer you want to make. I don't think I've been full in a long time."

Even so, he picked up his spoon again, unable to turn the offer and Burr shrugged, "How are you feeling? Has the room warmed up enough for you?"

Hamilton nodded, and Burr spoke again, "Before you arrived would you have commented that you hadn't felt warm in a long time?"

It's both a comment on Alexander's short memory and his tendency to dramatics, and while he doesn't agree, he does flush and look pointedly at the porridge he is still putting away at an almost alarming rate.

Burr's going to regret it, he knows this, but as aggravating and incindiary as Alexander tended to be, he was trying to be on his best behavior and Aaron couldn't help but feel something when he saw the other man so subdued, "Should you ever be in need, you know which door is mine."

Alexander's splutter only confirms his oncoming regret, "Really?"

Aaron gives him a tight smile, "Think nothing of it, it is only the Christian thing to do."

**Author's Note:**

> So I got called the fuck out about the fact that I was whining that I could probably write 1k worth of someone eating breakfast.
> 
> So  
> have an experiment.


End file.
